His Mistake
by gladysnotw
Summary: Mycroft is kidnapped and mistaken for Sherlock Holmes. His captors soon discover his true identity, and he becomes part of something even more dangerous and deadly.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: For those who are unaware, this is a sequel to my other story 'Her Judgement, His Pride', which you don't have to have read to get this story. It'll just include a few moments from that fic, but nothing too major. So, check it out if you want! This will mostly deal with Sherlock and Mycroft's relationship:)**

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Claire sat alone in a restaurant reading a book. She was supposed to meet Mycroft there, but he hadn't arrived yet. It was raining that evening, so she hoped he hadn't gotten into any trouble with traffic. A waitress gave her a fake smile as she refilled her glass of water for the third time.

"Sure, you don't want to order now?"

Claire shook her head. "No. It's alright. I'm expecting someone."

"Date?"

"Husband, actually."

"Recently married?"

"Yes. Excuse me," she replied as she hid her face behind her menu.

The waitress gave a shrug and walked away. Claire gave a small sigh of relief as she checked her phone. Mycroft hadn't texted or called. She rested her elbows on the table as she waited a bit longer. A few gasps from behind made her sit up and turn around. Her jaw hung open as Mycroft walked in. He was soaking wet. Claire grabbed a few napkins as he took his seat in front of her.

She wiped his face dry and she turned when she felt the waitress staring at her, snickering. Mycroft stared down at the table as she finished cleaning his face. "Thank you. I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to get here to so late."

Claire sat back down and cleared her throat. "What happened to you? You could get sick, walking around like that."

"I forgot my umbrella at work," he confessed and she raised both eyebrows in surprise.

"Mycroft, you should've called me and gone back for it. It's your grandfather's. I would've understood."

He shivered a bit. "I looked everywhere for it. I was already ten minutes late, as it is."

She took her own coat and put it over him as a gentleman in a suit appeared by their table. The snotty waitress was there next to him, folding her arms. Mycroft knew what was coming. The man cleared his throat and smiled. "Evening, is there a problem?"

Claire grimaced. "I don't believe so. We're all good here, sweet of you to ask."

"I'm afraid your, uh, date isn't properly dressed to dine here, ma'am. I hope you understand that he needs to leave."

Mycroft took out a few bills and handed them over to, what Claire could only guess was the owner. "Now's not exactly the time for petty requests, sir. I'm really not in the best of moods, you see."

The man stared at the bills and took them from Mycroft with a smile. "Of course, my apologies. Have a good night-"

Claire stood up from her seat and snatched the money away from him. Mycroft and the waitress stared wide eyed as Claire narrowed her eyes. "That won't be necessary. We'll be leaving."

She took Mycroft's hand and dragged him out of the restaurant. Mycroft took his hand back as they walked out with everyone staring at them. Claire stretched her arms once they were out and side-smiled as it had stopped raining. "So, how about a pizza?"

Mycroft handed her her coat. "I had that under control, you know."

"Oh, that much was _clearly_ obvious. The menu wasn't tempting me, anyway. Let's just get a pizza and go to Baker street."

She walked ahead as Mycroft grimaced, following behind. "Baker street? What for?"

"I need my spirits lifted after dealing with that insufferable man. Besides, I haven't seen Sherlock and John in months. I think he misses _you_ most of all."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Oh, I wouldn't be too sure."


	2. Chapter 2

"I already told you we're not playing that again, Sherlock," John said, shaking his head.

Sherlock held a board game in his hands as Claire tried to hide her amused smile. He frowned and put it back in the cupboard where he got it from and cleared his throat.

"So, how's Mycroft, Claire? Are you treating my brother as well as he deserves?" Sherlock asked, side-smiling.

"He's doing well, Sherlock. You'd probably hear it better from him, though. You should call him when you can. I'm sure he'd enjoy hearing from you," she replied.

Sherlock scoffed and sat down on the couch next to her. "Oh, please, Mycroft knows I'd never do anything of the sort. I'm much to occupied with my work. He knows that."

He stood up and walked into the kitchen to use his microscope. Claire stood next to him and watched him examining some blood.

"So, what's he doing for work since he's no longer with the government?"

Claire nodded. "He's just on a break from that. He's still working with the government, but he's doing more of a paperwork position. He enjoys it since he can do it from home and doesn't have to be in his office."

"Never thought I'd see him drop his position. You've really changed him, haven't you?"

She smiled a bit and sighed. "Got a new case already?"

"Ring was stolen," Sherlock replied, as he peeked into his microscope.

Claire raised her eyebrows and glanced at John. "A case about a _ring_?"

John was about to explain, but Sherlock beat him to it. "The ring was owned by a woman. Her husband murdered her in order to get the ring, but the idiot was in so much of a frightened state that he forgot the bloody thing in a phone booth. Ring was his mother's and since he and the Mrs. were having trouble, he wanted to leave her and get it back. She refused."

Claire narrowed her eyes. "A phone booth?"

Sherlock zoomed in on the blood. "He was trying to make a false police call that his wife had been killed. Probably would've gotten away with it-"

"If not for leaving the ring with his finger prints in the phone booth," Claire realized, nodding.

"Precisely," Sherlock smiled as he looked away from the microscope.

John spoke up from his chair as he put the newspaper in his hands down. "Where's Mycroft? Is he coming?"

"He had to head home first to change. Got a bit wet form the rain."

They all turned as they heard Mrs. Hudson come inside with a tray for tea. Claire helped her and they all gathered in the living room. Mrs. Hudson hugged Claire and smiled at her. "So, will Mycroft be joining us? I thought he might be, so I dropped the coffee and made tea."

Claire glanced at her watch and sighed. "He's taking longer than I thought, but he probably forgot that I did his laundry yesterday. I should call and see if he's alright."

John poured himself some tea and set the pot down. "I'll bet he's fine. Sugar, Sherlock?"

Sherlock poured himself some tea and nodded. John handed him the sugar as Claire debated on calling Mycroft. Mrs. Hudson rubbed her hands and gave a small gasp. "Bit cold tonight. I'd better get the heater on."

She left the room as Claire turned her head when she heard her phone ringing. John gave her an assuring smile as she walked over to answer it. It was Mycroft.

"Hello? Mycroft, are you alright?"

 _"Claire, darling, I'm so sorry. I had to head into my old office."_

Claire grimaced. "Your...office?"

 _"I've been doing some thinking and...I feel its time for me to go back to my old position."_

"I...since when have you decided this?"

 _"I'll be home by ten tonight. I can't speak anymore about it. I'm sorry. I..love you."_

He hung up and Claire stood with her mouth slightly hanging open. John looked at her when he saw she was quiet. Sherlock sipped his tea and continued looking through his microscope and taking notes on a notepad. Claire put her phone into her purse and turned to look at Sherlock.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you...has Mycroft mentioned anything about returning to his other position?"

Sherlock blinked and grimaced. "I think I'm the last person he'd tell of such a thing. Isn't he supposed to discuss something like that with you?"

Claire lowered her eyes in confusion. _Yes. He is. But, he clearly didn't._

John noticed her troubled state and put his cup aside. "Is everything alright?"

"I don't really know. He just told me that...he's taking his other job back."

"Well, doesn't it pay more? What's wrong?"

"It does pay more, but...he won't be home as often. It's so strange. I'll just have to talk to him when he arrives home."

She gathered her things as her thoughts scrambled in her mind. John stared at her empty cup of tea as she put her coat on. "Evening. So sorry about walking in like this."

John shook his head and walked her out of the flat as Sherlock gave her a small wave, keeping his eyes through the microscope. They walked down the stairs and stopped at the front door. "Hope everything turns out fine. I'm sure he's probably got himself into a bit of a misunderstanding."

Claire nodded. "He's perfectly capable of that. Thanks and sorry again, John."

As she drove to their home, she kept her phone on in case Mycroft would call again. She parked in their garage and walked towards the large house. The front garden was very large and filled with flowers. Claire had them organized herself, although Mycroft insisted on hiring a professional. The colors weren't as visible this evening, although they usually brought her a bit of comfort and a homely feeling.

She entered the house and got ready for bed. Her stomach growled as she remembered that she and Mycroft didn't even get a chance to eat that evening. She warmed up some tea and made a few sandwiches. As she grabbed her plate, she left one on the counter for Mycroft when he got home.

She turned off the lights and went into bed. Throughout the night, she read and had soft music playing. To her surprise, she woke up the next morning, not remembering when she fell asleep. Yawning, she stretched her arms and her heart stopped when she realized that Mycroft wasn't in bed. Nor was there any hint of evidence that someone else had been there. He was a tidy fellow, so she assumed he probably made his bed when he got up.

Grabbing her dishes from the night before, she went into the kitchen to put them away. She paused as she saw that the plate of sandwiches hadn't been touched. That did it. She grabbed her phone and dialed Mycroft's number. After a few seconds, he answered.

 _"Hello?"_

She narrowed her eyes. "Yes, I'd like to speak with my husband, please, if that isn't too much to ask."

A pause. _"I'm sorry...I don't-"_

"Where have you been? What in the world is going on?"

 _"I've been caught up at work-"_

"Alright, pause right there. Why didn't you talk with me about this? You just signed up for your old position without even telling me. Now, you've been gone all night and didn't even tell me a thing!"

His voice was a bit shaky. "I _know you're upset. I'm so sorry. I just..."_

There some noises in the background but she couldn't quiet tell what it was. "Please. Don't leave me stranded with questions like this. I just want to know what's going on."

 _"I have to go. I'll call you later, Mrs. Holmes."_

He hung up. Claire couldn't believe what had just happened. Mrs. Holmes? She shoved her phone in her pocket and hurried to speak with the only person she could think of.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg Lestrade had fallen asleep on his desk when his daughter called. He had a rough night the evening before. A few "suspicious characters" were seen around the city. He and his team were told of people wandering around the city, taking photographs. Civilians felt they were being followed. He and his team had been out all night.

He jumped when his phone ring and unlocked it to answer. "Greg Lestrade, Detective Inspector of the-"

" _If that's how you answer all your calls, you need a rewrite."_

Lestrade rubbed his eye. "Claire? Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry. We had a bit of a long night. How's everything, love?"

 _"I'm fine. It's just that...something came up with Mycroft's job."_

"Oh, right, right. He's doing paperwork now, you mentioned."

 _"Yes, he was. But, he called last night and said he took back his old position. Without telling me. And, he was gone all night too without telling me a thing about it. He's been acting so odd."_

Lestrade sat up and took a sip from his mug. He nearly gagged as he had to swallow the lukewarm coffee from the other morning. "Oh, God! Sorry, love. But, that's so odd. Have you spoken to him recently?"

" _Yes, this morning. He sounded like he was...in a hurry and couldn't really talk. Then, he called me...Mrs. Holmes before hanging up."_

He coughed as he still tasted the coffee. "What? Why? What's that supposed to mean? Have you told Sherlock? Maybe he knows something."

" _He doesn't. I saw him at Baker street last night. I feel like something really bad is happening. Perhaps I should go back and tell Sherlock and John."_

"I'll be down there in ten minutes myself. We'll figure this out, alright?"

 _"Thanks, Dad, but you don't have to come. You just said you were out-"_

"I'll see you there, love," he said, seriously.

He hung up, grabbed his mug, and hurried out of his office. Donovan was approaching his office as he slid his mug into her hands. "Warm this up, will you? Be back soon."

She grimaced as he hurried out. "Sir? Where are you-"

But, he had already rushed out and left her standing with his mug in her hands. Lestrade drove to Baker street after Claire did. He joined her with Sherlock and John in the flat, as they all discussed the whole situation.

"So, you said he called you...Mrs. Holmes?" Sherlock asked as he sat with his hands folded.

Claire nodded. "Yes. His voice sounded off too. Like, someone else was there."

John moved over as Lestrade sat down next to him on the couch. Claire was pacing around the room, trying to think. Sherlock sat quietly in his chair, pondering as Lestrade tried to catch his breath.

"When you arrived home, did it look like anyone else had been there before you? You said last night that Mycroft was going home to change before coming here," Sherlock asked, staring at the floor even though he was talking to Claire.

She ran a hand through her hair. "I can't say for sure. I don't remember. He usually doesn't make a mess of things when he's in the house, so either way, I wouldn't have noticed if he had been there."

John spoke up. "Well, what about the closet? He had to change so did it look any different? Did he leave his clothes up somewhere to dry?"

Sherlock's eyes lit up as he sat straighter. "His clothes, that's it, John!"

Lestrade and John made eye contact and grimaced. "What? What did I-"

The curly haired detective shot to his feet and pointed at Claire. "The floor wasn't wet at all was it? Inside the house? You have tile flooring, if I remember correctly."

Claire thought about it and shook her head. "No, it wasn't wet. I would've noticed."

Sherlock began to mutter to himself and smile a bit. John slightly rolled his eyes and folded his arms. "Meaning..?"

"Meaning he didn't change?," Lestrade asked, looking up at Sherlock.

"Meaning he didn't even get home, let alone get _inside,"_ Claire corrected with a small gasp.

Sherlock clapped his hands once and waved his hands around in the air a bit, trying to think. Claire felt a bit of fear as she started to put the pieces together. "You don't think..."

Lestrade stood up and put his arm around her. "It's okay. We'll find him."

Sherlock put on his coat and John knew what that meant. He got up and put his phone in his pocket as Sherlock ran a hand through his hair. John stood by Sherlock and looked up at him. "Do we have a plan?"

"That we do. She's the plan," Sherlock said, pointing at Claire.

Claire stared at him and stood straight. "What do I have to do?"

They all froze when Claire's phone rang. It was Mycroft. "It's Mycroft."

"Put it on speaker," Lestrade said.

"No, that's a bad idea. Whoever's on the other end might hear us," Sherlock scolded.

"What if he-"

"Would you all just stop? I'm answering," Claire said, irritated.

She pressed the green button on her screen and answered. "Hello?"

" _Claire, open John's laptop, please," Mycroft said, calmly._

Her heart stopped. How did he know where she was? Sherlock noticed the frightful look on her face and asked her with his eyes what had happened. She glanced at John's laptop and John read her mind. He grabbed it and turned it on.

" _Now, have him go to the right corner and press the symbol there. He'll have to find a tab called 'Control Panel'. He'll need to type in this code in another tab called 'File explorer'."_

Claire had put him on speaker as John followed his instructions. "Go on."

 _"The code is CS191742. Then, just watch."_

John typed in the code and his screen went black. Sherlock hurried behind him to watch with Lestrade and Claire doing the same. The screen came back on as they saw Mycroft sitting in a chair with his hands tied behind his back. A short and stout man stood behind him and smiled at the camera. Sherlock scanned Mycroft as best as he could, but saw nothing more than bloody lip, in terms of injuries.

"Good day to you all," the short man said, "I know you all probably miss your great detective, but he and I have loads of work to do. He lost me two of my good men and I intent to make him fix his mistakes. Moriarty and Sherrinford Holmes were two of my best friends, and it was a shame to hear that they are no longer among the living. But, no matter, Sherlock Holmes is now in my possession."

Sherlock grimaced at the mention of his name. John glanced at him, confused. Sherlock noticed Mycroft finally looked directly into the camera with a strange look on his face. One that that he had seen as they were growing up. It simply meant: _Don't tell._

What didn't Mycroft want him to say? What was happening? The stout man put his hands on Mycroft's shoulders, making him stiffen. "Of course, I can't take all the credit. I had an old friend come by and aid me."

The short man looked behind the camera as they heard the clicking of heels. A beautiful pale woman appeared on the screen and Sherlock's heart stopped. John's jaw dropped as they watched Irene Adler appear and give her same alluring smile. She grabbed Mycroft's chin and looked at him in a way that made Claire boil with anger. The stout man gave an uncomfortable and cruel laugh.

"I send this message to Mr. Holmes' loved ones, Dr. Watson, Mycroft and his wife, who are watching. Consider this a warning. Go about your business, until you are needed, and the good detective will stay alive. If you don't, things could get...out of hand and accidents could occur. Good day."

The video ended and John closed his laptop. "He thinks Mycroft is you?'

Sherlock was in a state of shock and silence. Lestrade stared at Sherlock for some kind of response. "Who was that?"

"I thought Irene Adler was gone. Now she's working for another maniac," John said, as he stared at the floor.

"No," Sherlock said, "She's been roped into this. They're using her to get things out of Mycroft. They think he's me and they're using her but they'll kill her when they're done with her."

Claire grimaced. "But, who is she?"

Sherlock stood up and grabbed his coat. "She was the woman."


	4. Chapter 4

Mycroft and Irene Adler were locked in a room. He was untied and the two of them were left together, awkwardly staring at each other.

"So...you're alive and well, I see," Mycroft said, with a fake smile.

Irene just frowned. "At least your brother knows when he's beaten. You joke as if you or your loved ones haven't just been threatened."

"Sherlock never knows when he's beaten. He always fights to have the last word, like a child."

Irene just raised an eyebrow at that and leaned against the wall, folding her arms. "I know this is the worst time to say this, but I made certain that it was you brought here and not your brother."

Mycroft didn't look convinced. "Don't bother trying to make yourself look good, Miss Adler. I doubt either of us will get out of this alive."

She gave him a glare. "Mr. Smith may have me here as a semi-prisoner, but he trusts me when it comes to handling the Holmes boys."

"Mr. Smith?"

"The stout man. He knows he can't kill me because I know how Sherlock Holmes works. I couldn't let him lay a finger on your brother, so I made him believe you were Sherlock."

Mycroft rolled his eyed. "Very noble."

"Sherlock is the only one who could solve this case. We both know that. We have to put aside our past and work our way around this."

Mycroft wasn't one for trusting people like Adler, nor was he the type of person to put aside everything he knew and listen to someone else. He stared at her and could tell she was sincere. Deep down, he wished she was playing him so he could call her out and say something witty.

He gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. "What are we to do?"

Before she could answer, the door to the room opened and Smith came inside. He asked Miss Adler to leave as his thugs sat Mycroft down in a chair.

They were left alone as Smith circled around him. "I have to say that I'm honored to finally meet you, Mr. Holmes. You're a man of many talents."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "I'm sorry. I don't believe I've ever heard or met you before."

"You knew Moriarty, of course. Friend of mine. Shame he was killed. He was young and had such great potential."

Smith stopped behind Mycroft. "Of course, you are also a man of great potential. That mind of yours. One can only dream of the abilities it has."

Mycroft felt Smith rest his hands on his shoulders. He wanted to shudder but he didn't want to give Smith any satisfaction. His eyes were kept forward and he tried to sit still.

"What secrets are in there? What great knowledge is the world missing?" Smith asked as he ran a hand through Mycroft's hair.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Mycroft didn't dare move a muscle or make a sound. Smith stopped touching him and moved from behind Mycroft. "You have a mind of unspeakable knowledge, yet you use it to chase criminals and solve cases. Why?"

"I like the attention," Mycroft replied, flatly.

Smith leaned into Mycroft's face. "I greatly desire your knowledge, Mr. Holmes. If you and I worked together, we'd be unstoppable."

Mycroft stared up at him. "Unstoppable?"

"You've seen what I can do. Moriarty was only able to do anything by my power. He was merely a mask. I'm the real thing, Mr. Holmes. Don't you remember why he never took anything when he broke into the Tower of London?"

Mycroft swallowed. "Slipped my mind."

Smith frowned at that. "Act as stupid as you desire, Mr. Holmes. It won't get you anywhere. I will ask you once again, will you be a part of my great plans for this country?"

"Never," Mycroft said, narrowing his eyes.

Every feature on Smith's face darkened as he glared at Mycroft. He adjust his tie and stood up straight. "I see. Well, it's a shame, really. I was hoping to be civil, but no matter. We'll just have to pluck it all from your head."

He gave a whistle and two thugs came into the room as Mycroft grimaced. "My knowledge?"

Smith grinned. "No, your brain."

Mycroft's eyes widened as the thugs grabbed his arms and led him out of the room. "What? My...wait, no!"

He was led back into the room from before with the camera. He was tied to the chair once more with Irene watching. Smith watched as well as he took out a gun from his jacket. Irene held her breath as she dared a confused look. Smith aimed it at Mycroft who struggled against his bonds.

"Please, don't," he said, nearly whispering.

"Wait, what so you think you're doing?" Irene asked.

"He's refused to cooperate. I want that brain. And, I want it now."

Mycroft pleaded with his eyes but it did no good. Irene felt a tugging in her chest as her thoughts scrambled to think of something. She may not have liked Mycroft much, but she wasn't going to let him die like this.

"Wait!"

Smith raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

She bit her lip and stared at the floor. "I...he's not Sherlock Holmes."


	5. Chapter 5

There was a bit of a long silence as Mycroft stared at Irene in total disbelief. She bit her lip but her eyes were sincere and sincere. Smith suddenly scoffed and dismissed what she said.

"Don't try to lie to save his life, Miss Alder. I didn't think love would make you this idiotic."

Irene frowned. "He's not Sherlock Holmes. This is his brother, Mycroft."

He raised his eyebrows. "So, you're confessing that you told me an utter lie?"

"Don't be a fool. Sherlock Holmes may be the better man, but Mycroft Holmes is something much more valuable to you."

Smith dared her to continue. "Which is?"

"He's the British government. You can use him. You wanted to burn the heart out of Sherlock Holmes, well, here it is. This is his heart," Irene said, glancing at Mycroft.

"Get back in the other room. It seems Mr. Mycroft Holmes and I have things to discuss," Smith told Irene.

A goon walked her into the other room and closed the door. Mycroft didn't look at Smith as he approached him. He kept his eyes fixed on a spot on the wall and remained silent. Smith held out his hand and gently stroked Mycroft's cheek.

"Did you enjoy making a fool of me? Making me think you were your brother?"

Mycroft said nothing. Smith's hand moved from his cheek to his chin and grabbed it , forcefully. His mouth was merely an inch from Mycroft's ear as he growled. "You will pay for this little joke. When I get my hands on your brother, I'm going to make you clean up the mess when I'm done with him."

"You won't get anywhere near my brother," Mycroft spat.

"Maybe, maybe not. But, I still have several other options. Your wife, for example."

Mycroft struggled like a mad man with rage. "If you so much as look at her.."

"Don't threaten people, Mr. Holmes. It doesn't suit you."

He let Mycroft go as he adjusted his tie. "I will have you returned to Baker street with Miss Adler. You will tell your friends that you were let go and you'll await further instructions."

"And, if I choose not to?"

Smith stood in front of Mycroft and stared at him. His hand stroked Mycroft's cheek again and he side-smiled. "You have...beautiful skin, Mr. Holmes. I'd hate to see it cut off."

Mycroft turned his head away out of Smith's grasp. Smith stood straight, frowning. "Try not to anything stupid, Mr. Holmes. I'd hate to see your wife harmed, but she is an ugly little thing, isn't she?"

A sudden rush of energy and boiling rage seemed to posses Mycroft Holmes. He charged onto Smith and dragged him to the floor. He couldn't punch him as hard as he wanted since his goons pulled him away as soon as they heard the ruckus.

Smith wiped blood from his lower lip and started laughing. As he got to his feet, he shook his head. "It seems I was after the wrong Holmes brother. You have so much power to your name, yet I heard you threw it all down the drain for a girl. Do you like them young, Mr. Holmes? Isn't she turning 17 soon?"

The goons had pinned his arms behind his back, but he didn't plan on attacking Smith again. He cursed himself for acting in such a way, but he slightly enjoyed it.

"I'll keep in touch. I have to admit..."

Smith grabbed Mycroft's chin and smiled warmly at him. "..I'm definitely going to miss you."

Mycroft was yanked out of the room. Before he could even digest what just happened, something cold and metallic slammed against his head and knocked him unconscious.


	6. Chapter 6

When Mycroft woke up, he was lying down in a bed. His eyes fluttered open and he realized he was in a bedroom. It was dark outside, since the lamp by his bed was on. He had a massive headache and his body was sore. Slowly, he sat up and froze when he saw Claire sleeping in a chair by his bed. His hand felt that his head was bandaged and he sighed deeply.

He got up from the bed, despite suddenly feeling nauseous, and gave Claire a small nudge. She inhaled sharply as she woke up, and gasped when she saw Mycroft. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she gave a small sob.

He held her tightly as he heard the floor creak by the door. Lestrade stood in the doorway and gave a sigh of relief.

"Well, thank God, you're awake. Oi, he's awake!"

John came into the room and exchanged smiles with Lestrade. Mycroft noticed one person was missing and asked for Sherlock.

"He's in the kitchen with Irene. You're both safe. There's police outside," John replied.

"Speaking of which, I should get back out there," Lestrade saod

Mycroft suddenly stopped smiling and remembered everything that had just happened to him. He heard a soft chuckle in his ear as Culverton Smith's voice sent a shiver down his spine.

"Very touching, Mr. Holmes. But, I think you remember that you're here under my orders. However, I'm a sensible man. I'll allow you a moment with your friends."

Mycroft suddenly lost all happiness and hope. His was became pale and he felt ill. Claire noticed and had him lay down. "We'll just let you rest."

She kissed his forehead and whispered, "Don't go anywhere."

He scoffed but smiled. "I'll try not to."

When they left the room, Mycroft decided there was nothing better to do but sleep. For at least, in sleep, he would be free from worry or danger.

He closed his eyes and did indeed get some sleep. Several hours had gone by and he woke up when he heard a sound. It was dark in the room, but he could've sworn he heard the door open with a small creak.

Slowly, he turned his head and felt a hint of relief as he saw Claire asleep next to him. He felt his blood stop as a hand covered his mouth. Despite the darkness, he felt someone's warm breath near his ear.

They shushed him quietly. "She's beautiful when she sleeps. I wonder if the view is better from your position. I'm curious."

Mycroft felt himself be consumed by pure horror as Culverton Smith chuckled in the darkness.

"I wouldn't scream or make a sound. I'd prefer that the girl lived. Besides, it's not like no one knows I'm here. I have people everywhere."

He slowly removed his hand from Mycroft's mouth and continued. "I wanted to deliver this first command in person. If I'm to get my hands on your little brother, I'm going to need to remove everyone in my way. One by one."

Mycroft whispered to quietly that he barely heard himself. "You'll just have to kill me."

He didn't need to see Smith to know he was smiling. He felt his hand snake around his neck and squeeze it. Mycroft couldn't breathe but he remained quiet.

"Don't be too eager. Although, I do look forward to it. Shame, really. I'd hate to see such a wife as a widow."

Mycroft's hands gripped the sheet of the bed, but said nothing. Smith released his neck and continued whispering. "Now, I'll need you to get that blasted Detective Inspector out of the way. He's almost as obnoxious as Dr. Watson. There's a warehouse at the edge of the city. Take him there and my men will handle the rest."

"By handle, you mean kill," Mycroft spat.

"I have no desire to kill anyone, Mr. Holmes. Unless completely necessary. Your precious halfwitted father-in-law will be unharmed if he does not annoy me."

Smith slithered into the darkness as Mycroft heard the door to the room open and close. Mycroft sat up in the bed and Claire shifted in her sleep. She didn't wake as Mycroft bit his lip. Hard. In all honesty, he felt an urge to cry.

He wasn't sure if it was angry tears or fearful tears. No alliance with any country could save him from this. As quietly as possible, he left the room and entered the flat's kitchen.

Sherlock was asleep on the couch. Typical. Mycroft managed to find a water bottle on the fridge, despite all the junk inside. He opened it and took a long drink.

"Having trouble sleeping?"

Claire's was a bit of a mess but Mycroft smiled, knowing she still looked beautiful. Mycroft gave a small sigh and leaned his head back to stare up at the ceiling.

"No, just needed water."

Claire smiled. "Right. Stupid question. I'm sorry."

She approached him and held his hand. It was warm and comforting. Her thumb stroked his knuckle as her eyes met his.

He tucked a stray hair behind her ear and cupped the side of her face. She stared at his eyes, as if she expected him to say something. But, he didn't have anything to say. Nor did he feel a need to. His eyes closed and he leaned down towards her face. His lips met hers and they kissed.

They stopped as Mycroft feared Smith might be watching. Not that he cared for his opinion, but the thought of him being watched as he kissed his own wife made him uneasy.

Claire's hand cupped the side of his face as she looked at him with concern in her eyes. "Mycroft...you're shaking."

He didn't realize he was. With a deep inhale of breath, he shook his head. "I think it's due to lack of sleep."

"Or lack of honestly," Sherlock said as he stepped into the kitchen with a yawn.

Mycroft gave him a look. "Bit late for you to be up, isn't it, little brother? And, where's Miss Adler?"

Sherlock ignored him as he opened the fridge to pour himself something to drink. Mycroft rolled his eyes and kissed Claire's cheek. "Good night."

She gave him an assuring nod as he walked back into the bedroom. Sherlock closed the fridge with no luck and sighed.

"Thank you for letting us stay here, Sherlock," Claire said.

He shook his head. "Oh, believe me, it was all Mrs. Hudson and your father. I can't stand a full house.

She gave a small laugh. "We won't be here long, so we'll be out of your hair soon."

"Oh, you don't bother me. It's my brother that irks me. He seemed to walk out of Smith's hands alright. Hasn't said much about it."

"Well, we can't expect him to spit it all out at once. He needs time. Have a little compassion."

Sherlock shook his head at that as he yawned again. "Not one of greatest strengths, just ask John."

He walked past her and laid back down on the couch. Claire said good night and went back into the bedroom with Mycroft.


	7. Chapter 7

Lestrade returned to Baker street the next day to sit with Mycroft. Sherlock and Irene sat in the main room together. He played his violin and she just listened. She looked out the window as he played a mellow tune.

Lestrade cleared his throat as he and Mycroft sat in the kitchen. Claire poured them some tea and put a hand on Mycroft's shoulder. "I'll leave you to it."

He nodded as she kissed his cheek and went downstairs to join Mrs. Hudson below. Lestrade folded his hands and tried not to look Mycroft in the eye.

"So, this Smith fellow...do you happen to know where he kept you?"

Mycroft shook his head. "No. I don't have the slightest idea. I don't know anything."

"Well, any idea on where it might've been? Can you describe the room?"

Mycroft tried to remember. He shut his eyes and buried his face in his hands as he tried to think. "I just...remember the walls were brick. It looked like an old warehouse. I'm sorry I can't..."

"It's alright. Well, what about getting out?"

Mycroft looked up at him. "Sorry, what?"

"Irene brought you here. She said you were both let go."

Irene sat up as she sat on the couch. "He was unconscious, Detective Inspector. He can't be expected to remember."

Mycroft grimaced. "I...I was unconscious. But I don't recall being told of being released."

"Alright, well, we'll see what we can do about this warehouse. Maybe we-"

They looked up as Sherlock's violin gave a loud squeak as he stopped playing. "There are several warehouses in the city, Lestrade. You'll need more details than that."

Mycroft flinched as he was reminded of the earpiece in his ear as Smith's voice came through. "Remember what I ordered. Deal with the Detective Inspector. Or I'll have my own people deal with him."

He stood from the table and Lestrade jumped. "Oi, you alright?"

Mycroft took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. "I need some air. Forgive me."

He heard his voice again. "Do it, Mycroft. Or else."

He shut his eyes and went downstairs. As he walked through the front door, he closed it and leaned on it. Sighing through his nose, he clenched his fists. He adjusted his tie and tried not to panic.

"I won't do it," he whispered.

"Fine. I'll send my men over, though I can't promise that they'll be gentle."

"No..."

"Get on with it. I will not ask you again, boy."

The earpiece was silent as Mycroft stood amongst the hustle of the city. No one knew what was happening at that moment. No one. He had never felt so isolated in his life. And, truth be told, he had felt isolated many times.

He took out his cellphone and dialed a number. "Anthea? I need a car."

Mycroft then took a cab to the warehouse where Smith had ordered him to take Lestrade. Anthea would pick up Lestrade and drive him to the warehouse. Although Anthea was no longer obligated to do anything for Mycroft, she did it anyway. Mycroft figured she still had a thing for him, despite it being completely wrong.

As he walked into the warehouse, he wondered if it was the one where he was held before. It was not. He noticed the walls weren't brick and the warehouse must've been recently abandoned since it wasn't trashed and didn't look too old.

Smith was there to meet him as he sent two gunmen to guard the front doors. There was a single chair in the middle of the warehouse and Smith motioned for Mycroft to sit in it.

"I didn't think you'd do it," Smith said as Mycroft sat down.

He said nothing but kept his chin up. Smith gave a chuckle. "You can try to resist, but soon you'll break."

He put his hands on Mycroft's shoulders and gave a sigh. "I know you must've struggled when it happened. Especially since it's not a typical case."

Mycroft held his breath as his mouth felt dry. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I understand why you choose not to speak of it. You were only a young man when it happened."

Mycroft had enough as he stood up and pulled away from his touch. "Get off me. You don't know anything!"

Smith gave that loud unpleasant laugh again and shook his head. "I know your darkest secrets. And, frankly, there are quite a few."

"Why should I care if you know? Knowledge is nothing-"

Smith's face darkened. "Knowledge is everything!"

He approached Mycroft slowly with hunger in his eyes, making Mycroft uneasy. This made Smith smile.

"You see? Knowledge is everything. By knowing what I know..."

His hand reached up to Mycroft's face and cupped his right cheek. "...it let's me watch you wriggle like the worm that you are."

Mycroft pulled away and slapped Smith's hand away. "Don't touch me!"

"What was the professor's name, boy? The one that did it? Shame you didn't report it. He's done the same to other students."

"Stop it," Mycroft whispered, harshly.

"But at least it got you through, didn't it? Mummy and Daddy were so proud."

Mycroft wouldn't play this game. He turned his back to Smith and tried not to listen. He tried to think of Claire. Her brown hair and gentle touch. Her genuinely kind smile. The way she was always patient with him, no matter what happened.

"I use people's secrets, Mr. Holmes. It was always the fun part of having a past career as a psychiatrist. Hearing people's secrets and deepest thoughts. And I know our dear DI has a few of his own."

"I'm not going to stand here and let you snake into his mind," Mycroft spat, turning back to look at Smith.

Smith laughed again. "No, of course. You're going to sit like a good boy and watch."

A rough hand grabbed Mycroft's shoulder as he felt the cold metal of a gun placed behind his neck. He was sat back down as Smith continued talking.

"Every person must be approached correctly. With the right knowledge and appropriate manner, people will open up."

Mycroft's hands were roughly tied behind him as Smith paced the room.

"I know your weaknesses. Your brother. Your wife. Your darkest secrets. A man in your position can't afford such secrets to be publicly declared. The Detective Inspector has his own. He struggles as he tries to keep in contact with his ex-wife-"

"Stop it!"

Smith's eyebrows raised as Mycroft's yell echoed throughout the building. "Ah, I see. Perhaps we should save all the fun for later."

After a few minutes, they heard a knocking on the front doors. Mycroft felt his heart sink as they were opened. His stomach suddenly fell ill as he heard Lestrade's voice.

"Oh my God..."

Smith greeted Lestrade with a calm voice. "Welcome, Detective Inspector. Can we have a chair brought for him?"

One was brought as Lestrade was shoved into it. He sat a few feet in front of Mycroft, who didn't dare look at him. Smith stood by Lestrade, clearing his throat.

"Now, let us make the rules clear. You answer with honesty and your son-in-law remains unharmed. Simple," Smith said, smiling.

Mycroft felt the cold metal behind his head again as Lestrade tensed.

"Do you keep in contact with your ex-wife, Detective Inspector?"

Lestrade grimaced. Was this some sort of joke? "What?"

"Yes or no? Remember the rules."

Lestrade stared at the stout man for a second. "Yes. From time to time I call her up."

Smith nodded and smiled. "Very good. Is she married?"

Again, Lestrade gave Smith a look. "Did you bring me here to ask about my personal life?"

Smith raised his voice but did not snarl or yell. "Answer me."

"I don't know if she is. It's none of my business!"

Silence again. "Why did you divorce?"

Lestrade swallowed. "I drank."

Smith nodded to someone behind Mycroft and he felt the gun jammed into his neck. He gave a short groan. Smith shook his head. "Wrong."

Lestrade's eyes lowered as his reply came out in a mumble. "She beat my daughter."

"She beat your daughter. And, I believe she kept it a secret from you for some time. Poor girl. But, you noticed, didn't you?"

"Piss off," Mycroft spat.

Lestrade looked at him, surprised. Smith, however, frowned. "If you insist. I believe it's your turn."

Smith walked away from Lestrade and placed a hand on Mycroft's neck. He stroked it, making Mycroft's breathing quicken. His hand made its way to his tie and he slowly untied it.

"What was his name, Mr. Holmes? Tell me."

Mycroft was starting to shake. "You want to hear what you already know?"

"No," Smith said, now whispering

He leaned down to Mycroft's ear. "I want to hear you say it."

"Never."

Smith held Mycroft's face in his hands. Mycroft tries to jerk away but Smith held him firmly. He stared at Mycroft's mouth, making Mycroft more horrified. However, he remained apathetic in his facial expressions. Slowly, he leaned towards Mycroft's face, closing his eyes. Lestrade saw what was coming and turned away.

Mycroft dared to see if Smith would really do it. But when he was close, he gave in. "Trevor!"

Smith stopped. "Sorry?"

Mycroft shut his eyes. "Trevor...H-Hamilton. Professor Hamilton. He taught...Physics."

He was shaking so much that the chair squeaked along with his movement. Lestrade didn't dare look at him. Smith pulled away, satisfied. "Professor Hamilton. How old were you when it happened?"

A pause. "22. Just."

"So young. I'll bet you were quite the sight at that age," Smith said as he slid his index finger across Mycroft's jawline.

Lestrade clenched his fists in disgust. "Get your filthy hands off him, you fat bastard!"

Smith's hand whipped through the air and slapped Lestrade across the face. He fell from his chair as a gunman hurried to shove him back in his chair.

"You might think me a monster. But we both know that you're as much a monster as I am."

Smith had his gunman drag Lestrade away to another room as Mycroft narrowed his eyes.

"Now, now, remember what I said. If he behaves, he won't be hurt. The same goes for you. Now, I think you require a timeou for your sudden outburst."

Mycroft was finally untied and dragged away. He was led into a dark room where he heard another door open. A sudden breeze of cold air made him shiver. He was shoved into darkness and slipped on the floor beneath him, landing on his stomach.

His hands quickly drew away from the floor as he realized it was icy cold. The door slammed shut behind him and he felt as if he were thrown into the Arctic. It was a bitterly cold room. Like a freezer. Despite being in complete darkness, he managed to huddld in a corner and hug himself. He was definitely in a freezer.


	8. Chapter 8

"You seem quiet, dear," Mrs. Hudson said as she and Claire sat together in the kitchen.

Claire blinked. "Oh, no, I just...I'm a bit worried."

Mrs. Hudson nodded. "Mycroft's been keeping to himself lately. I noticed too. Give him time."

"It's not just that. I understand that he's been through a lot. I'm not expecting him to let it all out at once, but it still worries me. I want to be there but I can only do so much because he doesn't want to discuss it."

Mrs. Hudson rubbed Claire's shoulder with her wrinkly hand and nodded. "He'll be alright. When he's ready, he'll come out and talk"

Claire lowered her eyes and sighed through her nose. "I've taken a week off work. I think I should take more."

"You'll know. How's that going, by the way? The whole teaching business?"

Claire smiled. "Very well. It's lots of work but worth it. At least, to me. I managed to get ahold of an old college friend."

Mrs. Hudson gave a small gasp. "Lovely!"

"She's been wanting to visit. Hopefully, when Mycroft gets better, we'll have a proper meeting."

She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. Her lip quivered and Mrs. Hudson pulled her into a hug. She shushed her and told her everything was alright.

As they hugged, Sherlock stood by the doorway in silence. This wasn't just his brother's wife, she was his sister-in-law. It had gotten late and Mycroft hadn't returned. Neither had Lestrade. Sherlock quickly, but quietly, ran up the stairs to grab his coat.

John noticed his anticipation and knew the game was on. He grabbed a jacket and shut his laptop. "Where to?"

"Anthea, she picked up Lestrade. Mycroft gave us a clue."

John grimaced. "How?"

Mycroft couldn't keep track of time, obviously, but he decided to guess he had already been inside for nearly an hour. The door opened again as a flashlight searched the room for him. His head shot up as he slowly got up to his feet. He watched the flashlight's ray of light scanning the room and he slowly made his way around so as to make it to the door as the idiot of a guard stepped inside.

When he finally reached the door, Mycroft slammed the door shut and locked it. Scanning around, he tried to remember where they had taken Lestrade.

A door a few feet from the freezer looked a bit familiar as he shivered a bit, still trying to recover from the cold. He made his way toward it and grabbed the handle. Giving it a jiggle, it opened. He didn't push the door open completely. It was opened a crack as he tried to see what was inside. It was quiet.

Slowly, he opened it further and further. Finally, he saw the room was empty. Rolling his eyes, he turned away and kept looking. He heard the goon slamming the door from the freezer, so his time was limited. He hurried to another room but the door was locked.

What if Lestrade was inside? He leaned against the door to see if he could hear anything. Silence was all he heard. He crouched onto the floor and tried to peak through the thin space under the door. He deducted chair legs and shoes. Based on the old leather of the shoes, he knew Lestrade was inside.

He gave a slight knock. "Detective Inspector? Is that you?"

He heard Lestrade's voice from inside the room. Barely audible. "By God...Holmes?"

"The door's locked. Did you see a key at all?"

"No. But, listen, just get out of here. It doesn't matter."

Mycroft shut his eyes and shook his head, slightly annoyed because he predicted this would happen.

"I'm not just going to leave you."

"That's an order from a cop, Holmes. You have to go and send for help. Stop this maniac."

Mycroft turned his head when he heard shouting from down the hall. He wasn't one for goodbye's or saying the proper things for times like this. So, he only said, "I'm sorry."

He hurried down the hall as he spotted another door. It was locked. No luck.

He was cornered. Rolling his eyes, he put both hands on his head as he surrendered. "Bugger."

Three gunman cornered him and aimed their weapons. Smith was there, of course, and spoke up. "Well, you're full of surprises, Mr. Holmes."

Mycroft gave a fake smile. "Thank you."

"I expected you to have a better escape plan," Smith laughed.

"Release the DI," Mycroft spat.

Smith gave a shrug as he adjust his tie. "I am terribly sorry, but I cannot. I'll be sending you back to Baker street. I'll keep the father-in-law here."

Mycroft put his hands down and gave an irritated sound. "You're after Sherlock. He's the one you want, so why do all this nonsense? For God's sake, let the man go!"

One of the gunmen approached him and slammed their gun into Mycroft's gut. He groaned and fell to the floor in pain.

Smith got on one knee and stared down at Mycroft. "The DI will remain with me as a reminder to your brother. That this isn't just about him. Anyone affiliated with him will face consequences."

Mycroft gritted his teeth in pain as Smith stood back up. "I don't have time to be dealing with you anymore. I have you the chance to cooperate, but you've acted in defiance. Miss Adler will now be required to do your 'dirty work'. I just need your wife out of the picture and I can get down to the final problem."

"You won't lay a finger on her, so help me," Mycroft glared.

"Your stupidity has lost her that privilege. I will deal with this in my own way. But, not to worry, she won't be hurt under my care."

That made Mycroft sick to his stomach. He avoided any possible images to the meaning of that sentence as he was dragged away to be returned to Baker street.


	9. Chapter 9

"Wait, wait, you said Mycroft gave us a clue," John said as Sherlock paced the room.

"Anthea. She doesn't work for him yet he had her bring a car for Lestrade."

John shrugged. "Maybe...she owes him a favor?"

"Or she still loves him but I'll wager that's merely a small percent chance," Sherlock said.

John's eyes widened. "She, what?"

"He had someone we know pick up Lestrade. He could've easily told Lestrade to get a cab. Anthea will know what happened and where they are," Sherlock explained.

"You're saying...something's happened to them?"

"Obviously," Sherlock replied as he dialed Anthea's number on his phone.

"Dear God," John mumbled as he rubbed his temples.

Sherlock got ahold of Anthea and she told him of the warehouse where she dropped of Lestrade. Sherlock hung up and put his phone in his pocket.

John looked up at him. "So, where to?"

"She's agreed to meet us a few blocks down. We'll be walking."

"Walking? Your brother has just been recently kidnapped, possibly twice now, and you want to-"

Sherlock was already out the door and John gave a small sigh. With a shake of his head, he dashed out the door before muttering a curse word.

Claire left the kitchen as she walked upstairs to the flat, surprised that Sherlock and John were also gone. With a shrug, she went to her bedroom and grabbed her satchel. She opened it and took out the notebook Mycroft had given her when they had first met.

She scribbled down the events of the past few days. It was a journal she kept where she mostly wrote of her students. She would write their names the first day and label them accordingly so she'd remember their names. Extremely helpful since she thought it rude for a teacher to not know her students by name.

She wrote of Mycroft and how she hoped he would feel better soon. With a sigh, she tossed the notebook in her satchel. This called for an iced coffee. She jumped when she heard her door opening.

"Oh, God, sorry," Claire gasped, putting a hand to her chest.

Irene just smiled. "All the gentlemen have gone, I see."

"Yes. They're all away on business, I assume. I was going to go out myself."

Claire walked to the door until Irene blocked the door. "I'd like to join you, if that's alright."

"Oh. Okay. It's just next door, come on."

"It's...I just need to.."

Claire's eyes widened a bit as Irene looked as though she were about to cry. "Oh, no, no. It's alright."

Irene wiped her eyes. "I need to talk to another woman about it. It's a bit personal.."

"Oh, of course. We'll just talk here, if you want. I'll go get us some tea from the kitchen."

Irene shook her head as she wiped her eyes again. "Please, let me. I need to cool down."

Claire shrugged and smiled. "It's up to you. I'll just wait here, then."

Irene slipped into the kitchen and grabbed a tray for the pot and cups. Mrs. Hudson gave her tea before heading to her own room to rest. Claire wrote some more in her journal and gave her pen a nibble.

 _*flashback*_

"I told my students that exact thing. They just never listen," Claire said on the phone to one of her roommates from college.

She heard several noises coming upstairs and grimaced. "Hang on, I'll call you back."

She put her phone on the table and hurried up the stairs. Quietly, she walked through the hall and stopped outside one of the spare rooms.

Closing her eyes, she gave a sigh. "Oh, dear God."

As she opened the door, she folded her arms as Mycroft ran on the treadmill. He had used the spare room for working out of all things. He spotted Claire and stopped running.

"Mycroft," she began.

He took a long drink from a water bottle before answering. "Yes?"

"Do you remember that little talk we had?"

Gasping for breath, he shrugged. "Well, darling, you and I have so many 'little talks' I can hardly keep track of when we had them and what was said."

Claire gave him a look and walked towards him. "You have one of the greatest minds in the world, Mycroft. So, I find it hard to believe you don't remember, but I'll gladly remind you."

He raised his eyebrows waiting for her to continue. "Very well."

She out her hands on his arms and rubbed them gently. "I told you that you're quite fit and all this nonsense of you being overweight-"

"...should remain as nonsense," Mycroft finished, deadpanned.

She nodded and side-smiled. "I know you're very insecure about your weight-"

"Ah, ah, wrong. I'm not insecure. Insecurities are for teenage girls who desire attention. I'm merely cautious and very strict on my diet."

Claire raised an eyebrow. "That's not what it looked like when you had second-helpings from the dessert table at my father's private party last night."

He looked away in guilt. "I prefer to think of it as a way of giving a silent compliment."

She gave his stomach a poke. "Indeed."

He pulled her into a hug and she gave a loud gasp and sound of protest. "Mycroft, you're all sweaty!"

He placed a kiss on her cheek as she pulled away and gave him a small shove. "Well, I'll be cooking downstairs. It'll be fried chicken, so you'll have to settle with something else. Wouldn't want to ruin such a healthy streak."

"I think I can make an exception. Your cooking isn't entirely unhealthy."

"Oh, thank goodness. You approve," she said, sarcastically.

She walked out of the roomroom. Mycroft smiled when she was gone and looked at the treadmill. He started back towards it but stopped. Shaking his head, he turned it off. He had done enough for one day, he thought.


	10. Chapter 10

Irene returned and placed the tray on the bed. She gave Claire her cup as she drank from her own. Claire gave the tea a good sniff and Irene raised an eyebrow.

"My mother was always fond of tea. I take after her in that way. Nice to know that Mycroft's more of a tea person, as well," Claire smiled.

Irene put her cup down as she gave a sniff. "Yes, well, I suppose I'll start. It's about Sherlock."

Claire set her cup down as she put sugar inside of it and stirred. Irene stood up from the bed and hugged herself. "We met such a long time ago. Under odd circumstances."

She turned as she heard a small tink. Claire had set her cup down as she swallowed her tea. "Go on."

Irene continued with a grin on her face. Almost snake-like. "He...was unlike any man I ever met. Brilliant mind. But, he didn't appear to have...feelings."

She covered her hands with her face, crying, as she heard a small thump. Claire had fallen unconscious on the bed and Irene smirked. She wiped her fake tears as she picked up her own tea cup. "Brilliant mind. He keeps several of his powders and experiments in the kitchen."

She sipped her tea with a smirk and placed it down on the tray. She took out a phone and dialed. "You'll be happy to know that the gullible Mrs. Holmes is out."

When she hung up, she felt a bit dizzy. Leaning on the wall, she gave a small cough. "I think you're the one that's out."

Irene gasped in terror as she saw Claire sitting up in bed with a smile. "And I'm pretty sure Mycroft knocked all the gullible-ness out of me when he taught me of certain tocins, drugs, and poisons. You never know when a spy like yourself might have something up your sleeve."

Irene coughed a bit more as she slowly closed her eyes and stumbled to the floor, unconscious. Claire checked her pulse and felt slightly relieved. She may have tried to poison her but she didn't want Irene dead. "You really can pick them, Sherlock, can't you?"

 _Meanwhile..._

Sherlock didn't suspect a trap. When he and John entered the hospital, it was dark and empty. John suspected Anthea had everyone clear out to avoid suspicion.

"So, tell me why we're meeting in a hospital?" John asked.

Sherlock had his hands in his pockets as they walked. "Don't want to risk anything. Anthea insisted a hospital for some reason. Must have something to do with Smith."

John nodded as if he understood, despite being confused. They entered several rooms but there was no sign of Anthea. It was already dark outside as they quietly roamed through different rooms.

"So, this Smith worked with Moriarty?"

"Moriarty was a part of Smith's web. He used nearly every foe I've encountered to get information on me. The people I know."

John stopped walking. "Magnussen. That creepy bloke. He must've told Smith loads."

Suddenly, they froze as the lights went out. Sherlock heard John's heavy breathing so he knew he was no more than three feet from him.

"Sherlock..."

"Emergency lights will kick in."

"Emergency lights?"

"Do you think a hospital would have no back-up plan for a power outage?"

Blue dim lights lit up the room, making John jump. Sherlock gave a smirk for being right and continued walking as they entered an operating room.

"Maybe we should call her again. This is a waste of time," John suggested.

"I fear she would not answer your call, Dr. Watson."

Their heads shot up when they heard the thin voice of Culverton Smith on the intercom. Sherlock smirked. "Of course."

"Surprised to see you didn't suspect a thing, Mr. Holmes. You and your brother always prove me wrong."

John stared up at the ceiling as if Smith himself was there. "Where is he? And Lestrade?"

"The inspector is alive, if that calms your nerves. Mycroft Holmes will be joining us with his wife very soon."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "And what then? Is this it? The end of the game?"

"That's the fun of it. You'll just have to be patient."

The intercom fell silent. John rushed to the door from where they came as two goons with guns stood outside. He put his hands up and stepped back in the room. "Jesus. Sherlock, what do we do? He we do we get out?"

"There's no more we can do than play along," Sherlock replied.

John grimaced. "For the love of God, you're enjoying this. This isn't a game! Do you hear me?"

Sherlock was surprised that John was now nearly face-to-face with him. "You don't see what's-"

John shook his head as his face hardened with anger. "No! You don't see, Sherlock! Your brother and sister-in-law are being brought here and this maniac has Lestrade. He's been tearing us all apart for God knows how long."

"Well, let's not go overboard and give him more credit than necess-"

John grabbed Sherlock's coat collar and slammed his back against the wall. "I know you're brilliant, Sherlock, but sometimes you really make me question that. You need to stop playing this game! The last time you tried to play, it nearly got you killed!"

"John, I need to finish this if any of us are going to get out alive. I need you trust me like you did before. We will get out if this. I swear, I'll protect you. I'll protect everyone."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: So, this sort of evolves around Season Four but it won't contain any spoilers from the first episode since I don't have Mary in this etc etc. After episode 2 comes out and we (finally) get to see Culverton Smith, I may or may not follow the show's storyline from this point. I have my own ending for this story, so it's not like I'm writing without a plan.**

 **I most likely won't go along with the show to avoid spoilers for those who won't be able to watch it but even though I only have like one person reviewing this (you rock btw) I still wanna know if adding stuff like spoilers in a way that fits THIS version will bug anyone. Like I said, I probably won't do it since I don't wanna spoil and want this to keep being my story. Anyways, thanks for reading!**

 **X**

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Quickly, Claire left the room and was halfway down the stairs when she heard someone bang on the door. She nearly slipped as she hurried down to Mrs. Hudson's room. She shut the door and Mrs. Hudson gasped.

"Dear, what's-"

Claire shushed her. "They don't know you're here. Lock yourself in a closet and don't come out."

Mrs. Hudson nodded and did as she was told in a panic. Claire left the room as she heard a window break in the kitchen. She rushed up the stairs and tried to look for some kind of weapon around the flat. Opening a drawer, she found a gun. It had some bullets, thankfully.

She ran back to her room as she passed Irene's unconscious body. Her window gave her an idea. The fire escape. She hurried over and tried to open the window. It was locked. "Mrs. Hudson, I will kill you for this."

Footsteps were heard and she tried to remember something Mycroft had taught her. She heard voices and it was too late. The door opened and she aimed her gun as three men stormed in.

One was Culverton Smith. She recognized him by his round face and crooked smile. The other men were tall and had guns of their own. Bigger than her handgun.

Smith saw Irene on the floor and gave a fake gasp, "I didn't know you were a good shot, Mrs. Holmes! Dear me."

Claire kept her aim steady. She had never shot a gun before. But, she didn't want to make him lose such a first impression of her. "She's not dead. I didn't shoot her. She's only sleeping."

Smith raised his eyebrows. "Poisoned, then? Very clever. Bring him."

Another goon walked in with Mycroft. He had his arms bound behind him and a rag tied between his teeth.

Smith gave a smile as he pointed to Irene. "You should be proud. She's not as useless as I thought."

"She's the one who tried to poison me. One whiff of the tea and I knew she had drugged it."

Smith laughed. "It would seem your brother-in-law has taught you well. Must be a blessing to have-"

"Mycroft taught me," she said, cutting him off a little too quickly.

He gave a small 'ah'. They were silent for a moment until she spoke up. "Why do you want my husband? He no longer works with the government."

"This isn't about your husband. It's about his brother. The youngest Holmes brother. Miss Adler seemed to think your husband would be more suiting to my cause, so she told me a little fib. Kidnapping your husband was a mistake. But, after much convincing from Miss Adler, I found him more useful."

His hand traced along Mycroft's jawline, making Claire's finger on the trigger itch.

"Because he's Sherlock's brother."

"And because he, unlike Sherrinford Holmes, supports his little brother."

Claire gave a small wince. "I wouldn't say support."

"He protects him. By getting to Mycroft Holmes, I was getting to the rest of the flies in my web, I have your father, you, and now Sherlock Holmes and his little pet."

Claire's eyes widened. "Sherlock and John.."

Mycroft too looked surprised. Smith gave a smile and nodded. "Now, I think we should all head to the party. It's about to start. Come along, my dear."

He held out his hand and she handed him the gun, surprising everyone but Mycroft. He shut his eyes in relief.

"Well, this is unexpected," Smith said.

"I don't have another option, do I? Might as well save us all the drama and go along with it."

"Seems Mycroft has taught you how to deal with such situations."

"No, I just thought it made sense. I have a brain you know."

One of the goons picked up Irene and carried her away. Smith stopped them all by the door and took out a small device. "What's a show without a bang?"

He pressed a button on the device and a shop a few blocks down exploded. Claire covered her mouth with both hands as people screamed in terror. They exited the house as the crowd was distracted and climbed into separate cars. Claire and Mycroft were, surprisingly, allowed together.

Smith helped her in the car and wiggled a finger at her. "Try anything and he dies."

He slammed the door and walked to a separate car. Claire turned to Mycroft and removed the rag from his mouth. He gave a small gasp and she held him tightly. "Jesus...I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? I should be sorry," he said.

She shook her head. "No. I should've suspected something was wrong. I was thinking of myself too much."

"What do you mean?"

She pulled away as she tried to choose her words carefully. "I wanted you to talk to me. To tell me what happened when you first went missing. I knew you needed time. But I wanted to be there and I couldn't because..."

He stared at her as she just looked away and tried to hide her pain with a smile. The car started and they were off. Mycroft could only pray that Sherlock was alright. And Lestrade. And John.

"I am, however, very proud of you.."

She grimaced. "Proud of me?"

He gave a small smile. "The drugged tea. Handing over the gun."

His eyes met hers and she suddenly forgot their situation. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes as he kissed the top of her head.

"If we don't make it out-"

He shushed her. "Let's not talk about that."

She lowered her eyes as a thought came to her. "Mycroft..."

"Hmm?"

"We never really talked about...children."

He raised both eyebrows and have a small scoff. "You want to talk about that now?"

"I'm just curious. It's never come up when we've talked."

"For good reason."

She lifted her head from his chest and grimaced. "You wouldn't want to?"

"You would?"

Claire bit her lip as she thought about it. Mycroft didn't realize how drawn in and eager he was to hear her answer. "I would. But, I'm fine with not having them, as well. You wouldn't want any?"

"I never really got along with them. Nor am I fond of them."

Claire's eyebrows raised. "Of babies?"

He gave a fake smile. "Humans."

She scoffed. "As irritated as I am to hear that, I am happy of one thing."

"What's that?"

"You sound like you again."

He swallowed as he felt himself blushing. He would've given the world to hold her at that moment. Anything. All he could do was stare as she gave a small smile. She slid her hand behind his back and held onto one of his bound hands.

"If we don't make it out of this-"

She tilted her head. "I thought you didn't want to think about that."

"I didn't but I think if anyone should be discussing it, it's me. If we don't make it out of this, I want you to know that...it's never been easy for me. To give up so much for a person. Not just my time and my heart, but everything. My trust, my home, my love. I always felt love was a weakness and though, in many cases, it is, it's one of the greatest weaknesses I could ever feel. It almost gives me strength."

He watched as she tried not to cry. This wasn't how he wanted to see her. Crying. "It gives me strength. You are my strength. I almost don't feel the need to exercise."

Claire gave a small giggle as she wiped her eyes. She wrapped her arms around him and he leaned onto her. He took in her scent, never wanting to forget it. She held him, never wanting to let go. The car stopped but they didn't pull away. Neither of them did.


	12. Chapter 12

_We're gonna have endless fun, aren't we?_

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A hospital of all places. Mycroft and Claire were separated and he was put into the room where Sherlock and John were kept. Sherlock was pacing and talking aloud as he brainstormed.

John stood up when he saw Mycroft. "Oh my God, Mycroft. What's happening?"

"This is all leading up to something, I know it. Something big," Sherlock said, aloud.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "This isn't a case that needs solving, Sherlock. This is a situation that requires nothing more than an escape plan."

Sherlock groaned. "Oh, don't you see? The only way out of here is to play the game."

Mycroft gave a small sigh. "I've had it with games since Moriarty and frankly, I'm not even sure it's a game we can win. Not even you."

"No, no, wait. Sherlock, what do you mean? What are you saying?" John asked as he folded his arms.

"I told you. We have to end this game now."

They all turned as the door opened. Mycroft clenched his fists as Smith walked in with two goons and gave them all a welcoming smile. "Isn't this a proper reunion?"

Mycroft stepped up. "Where is she? So help me God-"

"Settle down, Mr. Holmes. Nothing dreadful will happen to your wife. She's not who I'm after. For a long time, my target has been you three."

John blinked. "Us?"

"I have you, Dr. Watson. You know what that means?" Smith asked.

John shrugged. Smith just laughed. "It means that's I have Sherlock Holmes as well. And when I have Sherlock, I have his dear, big brother."

Sherlock gave a side-smile. "Yes, now that we're all here, let's start, shall we?"

Smith raised his eyebrows. "Indeed. Now, who'd like to talk, first?"

John glanced at Sherlock and back at Smith. "Talk?"

"Well, I am a therapist. It's what I do. Tell me your deepest secrets."

The three men were silent as Smith gave a small chuckle. "No one wants to go first? Well, why not you, Dr. Watson?"

"Me?"

"Let's see what we have on you. Soldier, eh? Enjoyed your time? Lost some good friends?"

John swallowed. "It's none of your business."

"It is if I know about it. So, you had fun back in war, did you?"

Smith approached John where he sat and placed a hand on his leg. "Hurt your wee leg?"

John narrowed his eyes and slapped his hand away. The goons aimed their find guns but Smith waved them off. He looked at Mycroft and approached him quietly. John blushed with anger as he tried to keep his focus on the floor.

Smith reached out a hand towards Mycroft who stepped away. "Don't touch me."

"Why? Because it still hurts? The way he touched you? It was worth it, thought, wasn't it?"

Mycroft took a deep breath. "Stop. Please."

Sherlock grimaced. "What?"

"Oh, he doesn't know? Pity, it's a good story."

"What is he talking about?"

"I'll let you tell him," Smith said as he traced Mycroft's jaw, making him uneasy.

Sherlock felt something snap. "Stop it."

"Oh, your story's my personal favorite, Mr. Holmes. So much tension for one man. All the drugs. And...Redbeard."

Mycroft closed his eyes. "Shouldn't have said that."

Smith laughed. "Anything for a reaction. But, look at the poor man. Been through so much. Thankfully, a woman knows how to balance it all out."

Sherlock smirked. "You think knowing things about people is enough? Just knowing isn't enough."

Smith leaned close to Sherlock's face, making Mycroft and John exchange glances. "Knowledge...is everything."

He turned from Sherlock and motioned for his goons to follow him out of the room. Once they were gone, Sherlock turned to Mycroft.

"What was he talking about?"

"It's not any of your business, Sherlock. It's something that happened long ago and I'd rather not revisit such a memory."

"Mycroft, he's using it to get to you. Let me help."

"I don't need your help," Mycroft spat.

"Tell me what happened!"

The door opened again. Irene Adler walked in. She wore a black lace gown with her hair up in a bun. Her lips, of course, were red and her skin was as soft and pale as ever.

Sherlock just stared. It did not meet her eyes, however. Sherlock watched as she walked up to Mycroft and stared into his eyes. He stared back for she seemed to be trying to tell him something. She slowly leaned close to him as her arms wrapped around his neck.

John slowly sat up in his chair. "Mycroft..."

Irene pressed her lips onto Mycroft's as he gave a muffled protest. Sherlock's face went pale, but he said nothing. When Irene finished, Mycroft pulled away and wiped his mouth.

"What in God's name is the matter with you?"

"Tell Sherlock what happened. With that man."

Mycroft stared in disbelief. "What?"

She forced him into another kiss as John shot to his feet. "Hey! Stop!"

Mycroft shoved her away. "No!"

Irene narrowed her eyes. "Shall I ask Smith to bring your wife into this?"

"Please, don't do this. Not like this."

"Then, confess."

"Mycroft, just tell us what happened," John insisted.

Mycroft refused. "No, I can't!"

Irene shrugged and started for the door. John breathed heavily as he looked back and forth between Irene and Mycroft. Sherlock was still silent. Irene was about to leave the room before John spoke up.

"Wait! Mycroft, now!"

Mycroft saw Irene stop at the door. She turned and looked at him. Her eyes told him the same thing John was saying.

"Mycroft! Say it!"

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I...college. I was in college when it happened."

John stared, listening closely.

"I was in danger of failing. One class. Physics. I approached my professor... and he...he had made me an offer."

Sherlock stopped staring at the floor and was now staring at his brother. "What was the offer?"

Mycroft simply shook his head. "Me."

John hung his head and bit his lip. Sherlock watched as Irene left the room. He approached Mycroft who turned his back to him. "You never told our patents."

"How could I?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "You were raped, Mycroft!"

"I was young and desperate for a grade! And, it wasn't rape. I let him do it."

The door opened as a goon entered and asked Sherlock to follow him out. John stood in front of Sherlock, shaking his head.

"No, Sherlock, don't," he insisted.

"John, you trust me, right?"

John raised an eyebrow and Sherlock rolled his eyes. He put a hand on John's shoulder before walking past him and leaving with the goon. Mycroft stood in a corner, stroking his chin. Silent.

Sherlock was led into a room and sat down. Smith was there waiting for him.

"I understand that you wish to play along with my game. I can't say I'm surprised. So, your brother finally confessed. After all these years."

Sherlock gave a single nod. "Yes, very life-changing. I'd like to proceed with the next step of this game."

"You seem so sure that you're going to win."

"I am going to win."

"Well, let's begin, then."

John grunted as he kept slamming his weight against the door. "Mycroft, help me get this door open! We can't let them keep doing this!"

Mycroft remained in his corner as John caught his breath. He gave a groan as he hit the door again with his shoulder. It must've dislocated. "God...Mycroft!"

Mycroft remained silent. John rubbed his shoulder and winced on pain. He banged on the door, shouting. "Hey! Open the door! Somebody!"

"It's no use, John. It's over," Mycroft mumbled.

John stopped the noise. "What?"

There was silence. Mycroft sat down where John sat before and gave a heavy sigh. John stormed up to Mycroft and grabbed him by his shirt collar. "You listen to me. Your wife and brother are in trouble and the only way to save them is by getting out of here! You have to let go of what happened to you in your past and move on! Whatever happened to caring isn't an advantage?"

Mycroft pushed John away. "I've learned to care!"

"Well, prove it! Your family is in trouble! Man up!"

"I'm not stupid, John. I'm just being realistic. There is no way out of here. Those doors aren't going to open. The only chance we have is if someone were to come through and open them, but everyone that does is usually armed."

John stared at him. "Then, we fight back."

"How far will we get by doing that? If they sense that one tiny thing is out of place, they'll kill all of us."

John looked away, not giving up. He knew Mycroft was right but, if Sherlock taught him anything, it's that there's always another way out. The both of them froze they heard the door open again. Sherlock walked in, holding a handgun. John's face lit up.

"Sherlock..."

Mycroft was skeptical. He saw Sherlock's pale face and concerned eyes. "What's going on?"

Sherlock swallowed. "I...found us a way out."

John gave a sigh of relief. "Oh, great, let's-"

Sherlock aimed the gun at him, shaking. John's eyes narrowed, confused. "Sherlock?"

"One of you...won't be leaving. I have to kill one of you."

Mycroft and John exchanged glances and stepped away from Sherlock. They stared as Sherlock aimed the gun and eyed both of them.

"Sherlock, what do you mean? What did he say?" John asked, carefully.

"He said I had to kill one of you. And, then we all go home."

"We can't do this. Put the gun down, Sherlock," Mycroft demanded.

"I have to or he'll kill both of you."

John shut his eyes and nodded. "Alright, alright. Do it. Kill me."

Mycroft shot a glance at John. "No, John."

"You have a wife, Mycroft! I've got no one expecting me to come home to them."

Sherlock stared at John intensely. "Yes, you do."

John looked at Sherlock softly and the two just stared. Mycroft saw what he had always assumed. A strong bond. Since they met, he knew the two were dangerous. Dangerous for those who got in their way or between them. John held out his hand to Sherlock and spoke in a small voice.

"Give it to me, Sherlock."

"Why?"

"Just give it to me."

Sherlock shook his head. "I'm not going to let you shoot yourself!"

John smiled. "Sherlock...the gun. Trust me."

Snatching the gun away, John took a step back. "Now, turn around."

Sherlock turned around, slowly. Mycroft stared at John, dumbstruck. John stared at the gun as Sherlock mumbled something. "I love you."

Lestrade felt better to be untied. He thanked Claire as they looked around the room for a way out.

"Hopefully, Sherlock and John are on their way," he said.

"Smith said they were here too. We have to find them and get out of here," Claire said as she tried jiggling the door handle.

"And, if we don't find them?"

"That won't happen. I'm not leaving here without them."

They froze when they heard several shots. Lestrade looked up at the ceiling. "I knew I heard something. Sounds like it came from the floor above us. Maybe that's where they are."

"God, no..." Claire whispered as she banged on the door with her fist.

She jumped back when the door opened. Lestrade hurried over and pulled her towards him as Smith walked in with a smile. "Well, the deed's been done. Shall we see who Sherlock killed?"

Lestrade narrowed his eyes as he tightened his grip on Claire. "Sherlock?"

Smith laughed. "I gave him a choice. The good doctor or his insufferable brother?"

Claire shook her head. "He wouldn't do it."

"Now, it's my turn to make a choice. Which Lestrade do I get to let go?"

"My father!"

Lestrade and Smith both looked at Claire, who responded almost immediately. She pulled away from Lestrade. "He goes free."

"No, no, no. Are you mad?"

Smith smiled. "I make the choice, my dear. Not either of you. But, seeing as Sherlock most likely chose to spare his own brother, I'll make sure his celebration for escaping death isn't too long."

He took out a gun and aimed it at her. She stepped away, instinctively, but then remained still. Lestrade stood in front of her, spreading out his arms.

"I won't let you take her," he spat.

Smith laughed. "If you ruin my aim, I might hit her and not kill her. I might even hit both of you."

Lestrade scoffed. "Yeah and you might just hit me."

There was a shot. Smith coughed and gargled as he felt a bullet hit his chest. Lestrade and Claire turned just as they heard another shot. A splatter of blood made Lestrade freeze. The blood wasn't his. Smith collapsed to the floor with a thud as he slowly lost consciousness. John hurried towards Lestrade with Mycroft following behind.

He gave a scream as Lestrade looked down to see Claire on the floor, bleeding. She gripped her neck and was growing sickly pale. Lestrade couldn't hear a thing as he slowly went to the floor himself. Sherlock knelt down beside him and tried to speak to him. The bullet that went to Claire had zipped past his ear and caused his hearing to have a slight malfunction.

He felt dizzy and nauseous. His eyes were heavy as he fainted.


	13. Chapter 13

"Is that all the boys? Where's Sherlock?"

John got up from the table and hurried up the stairs to the flat. Lestrade arrived to 222B late, of course, and took his seat in front of Claire and Mycroft as they sat together. "Sorry, I'm late. Had some filing to do."

Mycroft just gave a nod. He glanced at Claire and eyed the bandages on her neck. Clearing his throat, he stood up and held her hand. "Darling, come with me."

Claire slowly got up and followed him to the hallway by the front door. Mycroft glanced around, looking for a bathroom. Mrs. Hudson appeared and he asked her for the bathroom.

"Oh, just down that hall. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, we're fine," Mycroft said as he led Claire in the direction of the bathroom.

They entered the cramped bathroom as Mycroft locked the door. He reached into his jacket and pulled out new bandages. Gently, he removed the old ones from Claire's neck and stared at her as he did. Her face no longer seemed to have the natural and happy glow that it once had.

Her eyes seemed dull and gray. He looked away as he removed the bandages, unable to look at the nasty wound. His hands shook as he placed new bandages on her neck. When he was done, he had a bit of dry blood on his hands.

"You go on. I need to wash my hands," he said, quietly.

Claire left the bathroom as she heard the faucet turn on. Mycroft removed the blood from his hands and quickly rejoined everyone else at the table. Sherlock was there now with their parents. Their mother shot up from her seat when she saw Mycroft.

"Mikey, you look so pale. Come, come, and eat something. And, Claire, you look lovely!"

The two sat down as their food was there waiting for them. Mycroft ignored his plate as he fed Claire. Sherlock watched, unsure as to why Mycroft was feeding her. Her throat was the one that was damaged, not her hands.

John ate and talked with Mr. Holmes as he told him stories of when he was in Afghanistan. Lestrade silently ate as he would steal glimpses of Mycroft feeding Claire. Mrs. Holmes and Mrs. Hudson gossiped loudly as they ate.

When Claire had enough, Mycroft turned to his plate. Mrs. Holmes grabbed his plate before he could even take a bite. "Let me warm that up for you, Myc."

Mycroft flinched at his mother's nickname for him. Claire grimaced and looked at John, mouthing, "Myc?"

John shook his head, silently dismissing the nickname. Mycroft gave his mother a look. "Mycroft, ma'am. You named me Mycroft."

Lestrade sipped his cider. "What is it with your names? Did you and the Mrs. like strange names?"

Mr. Holmes smiled. "We preferred unique names, if that answers your question. After Eurus, we-"

Mycroft's eyes shot at his father as he realized he had said too much. John grimaced and looked at Sherlock. He, too, was unsure of what was being said.

"Sorry, who?" Lestrade asked.

Mr. Holmes shook his head. "No one. I'm sorry-"

"You said Eurus," John said.

"Excuse me, I need some air," Mr. Holmes said, leaving the room.

Mycroft took a long drink some his cider as Claire signed to him with her hands. "I think you and Sherlock should talk."

Sighing through his nose, Mycroft glanced at Sherlock. "Sherlock, we need to talk."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows as he took a big bite from his meat. "But, I thought we already decided on a honeymoon destination."

John kicked him under the table. Sherlock gave in and stood up. "Very well."

Mycroft followed him out of the room as Lestrade quickly took Mycroft's seat. "You alright, love?"

Claire nodded. John stood up with a small smile. "I'll leave you two alone."

Lestrade gave John a smile, thanking him silently. Claire looked down at her plate as Lestrade took her hand. "Love, I think we have to talk about you and...Mycroft."

Claire kept her eyes on her plate as she knew what was coming. "I think being with him is very dangerous. He's the bloody British government. And, I don't doubt he and Sherlock have more enemies out there. Being involved with the Holmes family isn't safe. I think you should consider-"

Although she couldn't speak, Claire narrowed her eyes at her father. She removed her wedding ring from her finger and showed it to Lestrade. He stared at her quietly as she showed it to him. She placed it back on her finger, proving her point.

Lestrade looked away, taking a deep breath. "I just...I don't want to see you like me. I never...told you about your mother and I."

Claire rolled her eyes but Lestrade shook his head, holding her hand. "Let me go on. When I realized that your mother...mistreated you. I stayed with her because...I was thinking of you. I was raised without a mother and I...I didn't want that for you."

He blinked his eyes several times and sighed. "I don't want your marriage to be ruined like mine was and my parents before me. End it now before it gets worse. Please, think about it."


	14. Chapter 14

"You're not serious, Mycroft," Sherlock said.

Mycroft stared out of the window of the flat with his hands clasped behind his back. "I am serious."

John raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I can't imagine you as a father."

"Neither can I. She doesn't seem aware of it, but I am. She barely eats and she's just different," Mycroft replied.

"So, how are you two going to deal with this? You can't work and you have a baby on the way," John said.

"She doesn't know that she's carrying a child. I'll have to take her to a doctor-"

Sherlock grimaced. "You never needed second opinions. Why take her to a-"

"I can't bear to tell her myself. She'll let me know soon enough. A woman always knows. It's like instinct."

John leaned back in his chair, sighing deeply. "So, how will you work it out?"

Mycroft paused before answering. "I'll have to find a position that allows me to work from the house. I'll find something, that's not the problem."

"What's the problem, then?" John asked, confused.

The older Holmes brother gave out a shaky breath as he held his chin up. "I just...I'm not ready to be a father."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "So, you don't want to be a father?"

"I said I'm not ready! I'm hardly a good husband, how can I be a good father?"

John folded his arms. "You need to talk to her. That's how this works, Mycroft."

"Well, if you haven't noticed she can't quite do that anymore!"

John and Sherlock exchanged glances as Mycroft lowered his eyes. He gripped his umbrella's handle and gave a sharp exhale. Sherlock gave in and approached his brother. "Mycroft, go home. You said you'd be there for me, well, now I'm here for you. Baker street is open to you both."

Mycroft looked at Sherlock, almost as if to make sure he was being sincere. He nodded and silently thanked him. They all jumped when they heard a small knock. "Claire's ready to go."

Lestrade stared at Mycroft as he adjusted his jacket, clearing his throat. "Thank you. I'll be right down."

They said goodbye to his parents as they finished their dinner. Mrs. Holmes insisted that they stay, but Mycroft felt that they should head home.

"I'll call in a day or two," he assured his mother.

She kissed his cheek and he sighed. Mycroft took Claire's hand as they stepped outside towards the car. Once they were inside the car, he glanced over at her and gave a small sigh.

"How does a movie sound?"

She nodded and gave him a smile. He smiled back and started the car. Lestrade waved them off and watched them drive off. Once they were out of his sight, he lowered his hand and sighed.


	15. Chapter 15

Lestrade went upstairs where Sherlock and John sat and stood in the doorway. John looked at him curiously as he sat down in their client chair.

"I need your help," Lestrade said, in a low voice.

John raised his eyebrows. "Is it another case?"

"Yes. It's about my daughter."

Sherlock grimaced at that, shifting in his chair. John glanced at Sherlock and back at Lestrade. "Claire? What about her?"

Hesitant, Lestrade lowered his eyes and fiddled with his fingers. Sherlock side-smiled and gave a small chuckle. "It's about Mycroft, isn't it?"

"Well, I didn't want to say it in that way, but yes. I'm just-"

"Mycroft?" John asked.

Lestrade sighed as he shifted. His fingers tapped his knees and he wouldn't look at Sherlock. Sherlock examined his movements as John remained confused and awaited an explanation. "Sorry, I don't understand. What's going on?"

Sherlock stood up and paced the room as Lestrade and John waited for him to say something. "I understand your concern, but I'm afraid this whole situation is none of my business."

John frowned. "Can someone tell me what's going on?"

"He's concerned for Claire and my brother being together. He thinks it's dangerous and that she should leave him, am I correct?"

Lestrade gave a small nod. "Yes. I just can't help but feel that it's for the best. She nearly got herself killed. All of us did."

John looked down at the floor, remembering what happened. Sherlock had to choose who to kill: John or Mycroft. He fired his gun several times to make it seem like he had shot one of them. Smith's goons came in to dispose of the body, but they were shot on the spot.

"I understand your concern, but my brother's business is his own. You have to bring it up with him. I'm sorry. Have a good evening!"

Sherlock plopped back in his chair and opened the newspaper by his chair. Lestrade slowly got to his feet and sighed. John frowned at Sherlock and glanced at Lestrade. "I think you should talk to Claire about it."

"Already have."

"And?"

"She has no intention of leaving him."

John shrugged. "That's that, then. There's nothing more you can do, Greg. She's made up her mind."

"But, you don't understand. I can't lose her. Next time she might not be so lucky. What if something worse happens? I won't let that happen," Lestrade said, firmly.

John thought he was about to cry, but Lestrade kept his eyes lowered. John put a hand on his shoulder and motioned for him to follow him downstairs. "She doesn't need to hear this now. She's in real pain, and she needs you to do your duty, as a father."

"I just want her safe. I lost her mother and I'm not losing her next. She's the only family that I have left," Lestrade confessed.

John shook his head. "That's not true."

He opened the door for him and gave him a reassuring smile. Lestrade adjusted his coat and thanked him. He took his leave and got into his car. John watched him drive off and went back upstairs to find Sherlock with his eyes glued to the newspaper.

"Charming, Sherlock."

"What?"

John sat down and folded his arms. "He was concerned about his daughter and you just send him away like nothing. That's a bit low, even for you."

"Well, what else was I supposed to say? It doesn't concern me because it's not my business. I'm not my brother's babysitter."

He hated to admit that he agreed, so John just opened his laptop and typed away. He glanced up to see Sherlock closing his eyes and his chin up. John knew that look. He was thinking deeply. Sherlock placed his folded hands into position under his chin and pondered.

"Do you think she's okay? The woman?"

Sherlock didn't move an inch. "How should I know?"

"Because you know everything. She was working for Smith-"

"She was doing it to protect me. One act of defiance and he'd kill me. Once he was out of the picture, she escaped."

John couldn't believe how "matter of fact" Sherlock sounded. "She still likes you."

"Apparently."

"Why don't you message her? For God's sake!"

"I need tea."

Sherlock stood up and fished for a kettle in the messy cupboards. John smiled and shook his head. He grabbed his laptop and opened it up to his blog. With a blank page, he wrote of their adventure and meeting with Culverton Smith.

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A blanket, hot tea, and a movie. Neither of them could've asked for anything better. They sat as the movie began. Claire didn't even know what movie he chose. She didn't care. His arm was around her and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

If she was being perfectly honest, this is what she wanted. Just the two of them alone. After an hour, she was beginning to fall asleep. Mycroft was already sleeping. Closing her eyes, she gave in to her body's begging for rest.

After several minutes, Mycroft woke up and slowly sat up to find Claire sleeping. He gave her a small shake and her eyes fluttered open. "Let's get to bed."

He shut off the projector behind them and Claire got up. They went to their bedroom, but Mycroft stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. "Let me change your bandages."

They went to their bathroom as he cleaned her wound and replaced the bandages. She stared at the floor as he changed them, and the house was silent. Mycroft finished and washed his hands. Claire went ahead to their bed and climbed in. He turned off the light and got into bed. In the darkness, his hand found hers.

His mind was abuzz and now he couldn't sleep. He was going to be a father. A part of him was excited, but the other part was anxious. Finally, he slowly drifted to sleep as his eyes closed.

The next morning, he awoke to find Claire's bedside empty. He sat up and looked around the room, but didn't hear or see her. "Claire?"

Nothing. He got up and threw his bathrobe on. Quickly, he left the bedroom and went downstairs. He eyes scanned the living room and stopped when he glanced out of a window to their backyard. Claire was walking in the garden by herself. He gave a sigh of relief and went back upstairs to put some proper clothes on.

He met her outside as she sat in their garden. She cared for the garden herself, since Mycroft never really thought much of it before they married. He offered hiring gardeners, but she insisted on doing it herself.

He sat down next to her on the small bench where she sat and followed her gaze. They were silent for a moment, until he spoke up. "Are you feeling alright?"

She shook her head and rubbed her stomach. Mycroft swallowed hard but showed no emotion. "Do you need a doctor?"

With her hands, she signed, "I think so. My stomach feels strange."

Gently, he put his arm around her and helped her stand. They walked back towards the house and she got dressed. Together, they drove to the hospital as Mycroft called to have an appointment made for her immediately.

As expected, they did tests on her and they came back positive. The doctor told them the news and smiled. Claire's face went pale but her eyes filled with excitement. Mycroft hugged her tightly and smiled. She was a few weeks pregnant, so it was still a long wait.

They went back to their car and sat in silence. He turned the car on and drove off. Claire suddenly felt dizzy and nauseous. She hugged herself until they got home. Before he turned off the car, she ran inside.

Mycroft undid his seatbelt and rushed after her. He paused outside the bathroom as he heard her breathing heavily. He gave a small knock. "Darling? Do you need to be alone? Or do you want me to come in?"

He rolled his eyes and mentally slapped himself for expecting a reply. Slowly, he went inside and she waved him away. He got the message, and closed the door.

As a child, he wasn't fond of hearing Sherlock vomit when he was a toddler. So, he went into the living room, hoping to avoid any noises. He realized Lestrade would want to hear the news, so he called him, stepping outside.

"Hello? Mycroft?"

"Yes, good afternoon. I have some news about Claire."

"What's happened? What's wrong?"

"She's fine. Nothing's wrong. She's pregnant."

A pause. "Pregnant?"

Mycroft smiled a bit. "Yes. You're going to be a grandfather."

Another pause. "Wow. That's great news. How is she?"

"I'm afraid she's a bit unsteady, but nothing serious. You're more than welcome to come see her."

"I will. Later tonight."

"Very well. And, congratulations."

"Yes, well, you too."


	16. Chapter 16

Mrs. Hudson gave a loud squeal when she heard the news. Sherlock shut his eyes in annoyance, as well as Mycroft. John gave a nervous smile and patted Claire on the back. "Congratulations."

"What's it going to be? I do hope for a girl!"

Sherlock crossed his legs as he sat in his chair. "Too early to know the gender, Mrs. Hudson. But, it'll most definitely be a boy."

Mycroft frowned. "Girl."

"Boy."

"Girl."

John cleared his throat. "Yes, well, who's hungry?"

Mrs. Hudson made them all breakfast to celebrate. They crowded in the flat to eat since the dining table downstairs needed to be repaired. Sherlock broke it while experimenting with knives. John poured Sherlock coffee in a mug, then he poured his own. Claire passed him the sugar, as Sherlock opened up the newspaper.

"He doesn't take sugar," Sherlock said, behind the paper.

John side-smiled. "Sorry."

Claire shook her head as she put the sugar back down on the table. Mrs. Hudson served everyone eggs with sausage as she had to run out and do some errands. She gave Claire one last hug and hurried out, grabbing her coat.

"I have some news," Mycroft said to Claire.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Lady Smallwood has managed to find me a position at work. It'll allow me to work from home, but I'll have to be in the office, at least, once a week. I think it would be a good idea."

Claire signed, "Who?"

"Lady Smallwood. She's an old friend and very loyal as an employee. She used to be a therapist, you know."

Sherlock sipped his coffee. "Yours?"

John snorted, but quickly frowned. "Sherlock..."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and gave his brother a fake smile. "For God's sake, you can never resist, can you?"

Sherlock was about to reply before John interrupted. "Is there ever a moment where you two aren't making spectacles of yourselves?"

"Well, he started it."

"Did not."

John was trying to break them up, but Claire just ate her breakfast in silence. She saw no use in trying to calm the two down. They were like children, she thought with a smile. John kept scolding until Sherlock finally stopped arguing.

"Have you already told Greg?" John asked.

Mycroft gave a nod. "Yes, I called him earlier this morning. He's hoping to drop by this evening."

Sherlock folded his paper, grimacing. "Who?"

John rolled his eyes. "Lestrade."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, thinking. Then, his eyes lit up. "Ah, right. Gavin Lestrade!"

"Greg," John and Mycroft said in unison.

"Do give him my best. Lord knows he'll need it," Sherlock mumbled the last bit.

Mycroft threw him a look. As did John. Sherlock ate away innocently as Mycroft cleared his throat. "Well, we better be going."

"You're sure?" John asked, as he prepared to stand up.

Claire also got up, picking up her dishes. She grabbed Mycroft's as well, placing them all in the sink. Sherlock opened up the newspaper and started reading to himself as John got up to walk them out. Mycroft shook his head at the doctor as Claire gave the dishes a rinse. "No need, John. We can see ourselves out."

John sighed a bit as he glanced at Sherlock, who was buried behind the newspaper. "Sorry about that."

"No need to apologize. He's always been like that. I should know. Good morning."

He took Claire hand and they left the flat with John watching them leave from the doorway. When the front door closed, he sat back down to continue eating. Sherlock crumpled the paper up and tossed it aside. "I need a case."

"You need a good beating."

Sherlock looked out the window to watch his brother leave. "Another Holmes. Lestrade's probably wet himself just thinking about it."

"He can't be taking it too hard. And, why should he? It's his own grandchild, for goodness sake."

"Yes, who's father is the British Government. What kind of man waits to see his daughter after hearing such news?"

John looked away as he shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth. Sherlock shook his head as he sat back down at the table. "It's a beautiful day."

John grimaced. "Gorgeous. You're nervous, aren't you?"

The curly head gave a scoff. "Of what? I don't get nervous."

"You're going to be an uncle, Sherlock. It's driving you mad. I can tell."

"I am not going mad."

"You're brother's having a baby! You're so calm and dismissive about it. You're obviously nervous about it."

Sherlock grimaced. "Since when do you make the deductions around here?"

John triumphantly kept eating as he wondered what it'd be like to have a baby in Baker street. Sherlock glanced at John once in a while as he cleared his throat. "If it comforts you, I'm more concerned for my brother than myself."

"Oh? That's news."

"Lestrade's going to hate him even more, you know."

John gave a small sigh. "Well, that's not hard to do with Mycroft."

The two shared a laugh as Sherlock returned to his thoughts. It started to rain outside as Sherlock stood by the window that entire morning. He was thinking. John knew it. Later, he heard violin music as Sherlock played quietly. Baker street was steady and silent the rest of the day. Much was going to change. More than it already had.

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 **A/N: Okay, so I'm probably ending this story here. Yes, the ending is awful. But, I'm getting an idea of another story and I don't want to write it here because it's going to be a different storyline than what's already being summarized in the summary. That part of the story is over and I think it's proper to move on to a new story. If you've been following this tale for some time, thanks for reading.**

 **Season 4 has come and gone, and I can only hope there will be more episodes and seasons to come. I know everyone has their opinions of Season 4, but I will only say that I enjoyed it. It had some things I didn't like (mostly from Mary because I don't like her at all. Hence, why she's not in my stories like...ever). But, there was more that I liked than I didn't so yaaay for that. Overall, I'm disappointed in all the hate sent to Moftiss about the new season. I may not like Mary, but I don't go sending angry tweets to them or Amanda. Enough negativity, though. Thanks for reading and have a blessed week!**


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